‘We were living in paradise’

El Salvador’s earthquakes affect both rich and poor

By Peter Bate, San Salvador

"We were saved by a miracle," said Daniel Milton Alfaro, as laborers dug and picked through the rubble that covered what little was left of his dream home in Santa Tecla, a suburb of the capital of El Salvador.

One week earlier, on Saturday, Jan. 13, an earthquake measuring 7.6 on the Richter scale triggered a landslide that wiped out their upscale community of Las Colinas. Alfaro, his wife and their four children had left their new two-storey house just a few hours before more than 500 of their neighbors were killed by an avalanche of dirt, rocks and trees.

The quake lasted about 30 seconds and its shocks were also felt in other Central American nations. In El Salvador, the shaking set off landslides of volcanic soil that caused damage in 12 of the country’s 14 departments. In Santa Tecla, which lies on the foothills of the Cordillera del Bálsamo, it loosened tons of debris on Las Colinas, sweeping away houses, cars and people.

[On Feb., a second major quake jolted the country, causing still more loss of life and material destruction. See link on the right to read a press release of IDB’s response to the latest disaster.]

As laborers tried to salvage at least a few appliances and tools from the rubble, Alfaro said that he considered himself blessed because his whole family survived a catastrophe that took more than 800 lives and left over 108,000 families homeless. His neighbors, the Hidalgos, met a different fate. "The wife and their three kids were killed. They found their bodies on Wednesday," he said.

After the first few days of horror, the earthquake sparked the sort of recriminations that disasters tend to touch off in developing nations. In this case, most of the deaths occurred in a middle-income community. The local media ran stories recalling that environmental groups had raised objections to the development of Las Colinas when the project was first announced. Families like the Alfaros and their neighbors had chosen to move to Santa Tecla because it is greener, cooler and safer than San Salvador. Its sweeping views of the valley were a big selling point. "Just a few weeks ago I taped a video for a brother who lives in the United States, and I was telling him that we were living in Paradise," Alfaro said.

Beautiful view, dangerous slope. But Santa Tecla was also built on steep hillsides, an inherently risky move, particularly in a country known for frequent seismic disturbances. "Any steep slope is intrinsically suspect of producing landslides until the contrary is proven," says Sergio Mora, an IDB environment, disaster and prevention specialist who visited the site after the earthquake. He said a thorough slope stability analysis, using the latest techniques, can be conducted on building sites similar to Santa Tecla for "a few tens of thousands of U.S. dollars." The cost of such analyses, which can indicate which sites are unsafe to build on, is modest compared to the potential loss of life and property.

El Salvador does not lack adequate rules for antiseismic construction. After an earthquake hit its capital city in 1986, killing more than 1,500 people, the country drafted one of the strictest building codes in the Western Hemisphere. However, adopting rigorous rules is not the same as enforcing them. And here is where many developing nations usually fall short.

Similarly, the Salvadoran political leadership often voiced strong support for a national strategy of disaster prevention as an essential investment for its future, especially after Hurricane Mitch, which in 1998 wreaked havoc in many of the rural areas that were also ravaged by the recent earthquake. However, most political leaders did not follow up on those pledges to update the country’s risk reduction system.

As a result of that delay there was some confusion in the first few days after the earthquake. The government immediately activated its National Emergency Committee (COEN), which was meant to be led by civilians. However, President Francisco Flores opted to put an army general in charge of the emergency response. On a more positive note, the government established a National Solidarity Commission (CONASOL) that involved private sector leaders in the efforts to distribute foreign aid. It also retained two internationally recognized auditing firms to keep track of donations.

The case for disaster prevention. In all fairness, it must be pointed out that earthquakes are almost impossible to predict. They can strike at any time, with little or no warning. Almost all countries face this threat. As seen in the 1995 earthquake that hit the Japanese city of Kobe and the recent seism in Seattle, Washington, even the richest nations can be humbled by a strong earthquake.

Unpredictability, however, should not preclude countries from preparing for the potential impact of earthquakes, hurricanes, floods and other disasters. This entails measuring and managing risks and taking adequate and timely steps to address hazards. Over the past decade, advances in computer and satellite technology, coupled with a greater scientific and technical understanding of earthquakes, have made it possible to model all sorts of disasters. Specialized engineering firms already advise commercial clients such as insurance and reinsurance companies on their exposure to catastrophes in industrialized nations.

That said, if there is one region in the world that should make disaster prevention a priority, it is Central America. The isthmus, which sits atop the junctions of several tectonic plates, is also prone to hurricanes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions and droughts. El Salvador, one of the smallest and most densely populated countries in the region, has no less than 14 volcanoes. But besides the sort of major tragedies that make headlines around the world, Central America suffers hundreds of smaller landslides, floods and storms that kill or leave homeless thousands of people every year.

As on most Saturdays in Armenia, a town 46 km west of San Salvador, the main square was filled with people walking on its paths lined with stunted trees and push carts of vendors selling tamales, candies and small bags of soda pop. At one end, a Protestant preacher used a loudspeaker to warn everyone within earshot about the trials of Job. What was different from any other weekend morning was a throng of women standing at the doors of the local government building, where municipal workers were handing out packets of food to people affected by the earthquake.

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Date posted: March 2001

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Makeshift memorial...

A temporary home...